


Fair Game

by jongdae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 17:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4444904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jongdae/pseuds/jongdae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baekhyun in Jongdae's boyfriend shirt. That's it, that's all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Game

“Baekhyun, that’s, um, _my_ shirt,” Jongdae states matter-of-factly, arms crossed.

The elder just hums dismissingly, lying on his belly and elbows, idly flipping through a fashion magazine on Jongdae’s bed in Jongdae’s bedroom, milky legs folded up, swinging lightly.

It’s all very distracting to Jongdae already.

He doesn’t need the fact that Baekhyun is in _his_ shirt. 

Or, more specifically, he doesn’t need the fact that Baekhyun is _only_ in his slightly oversized boyfriend shirt that’s barely opaque enough to cover up necessities. 

_He’s so dangerous_ , Jongdae thinks.

“Your shirts are fair game to me, Dae.”

Jongdae scoffs and then starts vaguely motioning the situation in front of him with his hands. “And how is _this all_ a fair game to _me_?” 

The air stiffens as Baekhyun decides strategically – the bastard – to ignore Jongdae for a few eternal minutes. He shifts his legs in a way sometimes mistaken as _sensual_ bordering _sexual_ , and Jongdae can barely hold onto his conscience as his imagination starts clouding his thoughts.

Baekhyun flips a page nonchalantly, pinky slightly raised. He doesn’t give Jongdae a look or a glance until he lifts his left index to his lower lip, as if to contemplate the article on London fashion lying in front of him. As if he’s actually reading the thing. As if there’s something worth thinking about. Jongdae uncrosses his arms just to recross them again. 

“Come on, I’m tired, it’s been a long day, insert-some-other-legitimate-reason-here, etcetera, what have you, can you just get out of my shirt and room?” Jongdae whines successively, pushing up his black-framed glasses. “Actually, keep the shirt.”

 

Baekhyun finally looks up. “I’m just here reading a magazine. No big deal. Just lock the door and the game’s all yours. Do I really have to spell it out, Dae?”

Jongdae raises his eyebrow. He eyes the door’s knob, turns back to Baekhyun’s creamy legs, then Baekhyun’s inscrutable expression, and then back at the door.

“Right,” Jongdae gulps.

 

_Right_.

 

There’s no way in hell Jongdae’s going to let go of a Baekhyun who’s only clad with his semi-transparent boyfriend shirt. No way in hell. 

There’s a dangerous line: just that thin divide that separates the familiar white cotton cloth with Baekhyun’s equally familiar smooth skin, and it drives Jongdae bananas, for lack of better expression.

“What’s the occasion,” Jongdae asks as he ravages Baekhyun’s neck with kisses and bites, hands gliding down the other’s sides, hips, waist, thighs. He takes a whiff and realizes that Baekhyun’s shampoo and body lotion smell awfully like his own. 

“… You… used my toiletries.”

Baekhyun moans happily, and it’s funny because it makes Jongdae just want to kiss him senseless and wiggle noses with him, and giggle like kids.

“I don’t know, I just felt like taking a shower here and all, y’know,” Baekhyun mumbles casually, not answering much, not revealing much, not indulging into much. He unbuttons two buttons, for good measure. “Celebrate a late happy birthday, a late Christmas, maybe.”

“You’re giving me a late happy birthday gift by using my own shampoo and shirt? What a cheapskate,” Jongdae mutters between I-can’t-believe-you laughters.

“But you’re lovin’ it,” Baekhyun entices and bites his lower lip as it curls up into a smile. 

Jongdae smoothly moves his hand to the inside of Baekhyun’s thigh, still kissing Baekhyun affectionately like he always does, nerves in heat but touches and caresses still calm and cool.

Baekhyun groans into the kiss and relaxes a bit because that’s how it works with Jongdae, you slow down first and then we’ll see – though they both know how it goes.

“Hey Baek,” Jongdae whispers, taking off his glasses with one hand, lifting the front of the shirt slightly with the other. Not enough to see the other’s important parts but enough to make Baekhyun shiver with unknown excitement; he crosses his legs slightly in reaction. 

“Yeah, Dae?”

“I… want you to finger yourself today.”

Baekhyun freezes. “Uh.”

“Mm?”

“…What’s… the occasion…”

“My late birthday present, for all I know,” Jongdae challenges.

Baekhyun laughs nervously, but his mind has long complied.

 

“Also, I ran out of lube, Baek.”

“… Fine, I’ll use my saliva.”

“You’re so good to me, Baek, I love you.”

“I— this isn’t bloody fair.”

“I love you,” Jongdae puckers his lips.

“Love me right,” Baekhyun grumbles.

 

Baekhyun hesitates but then opens his mouth slightly and takes his left index finger in. He doesn’t close his eyes, but his eyelids droop low and his eyes darken. He sucks in once, draws it out, licks it carefully from the side, manicured nail glowing in perfection, and then he takes another in and works it out just as languidly.

Jongdae’s tent has formed long ago, and it’s aching because he has his tightest pants on today. He wants to unzip them, but then again, he doesn’t want to dissipate his attention away from Baekyun’s rare as-fuck performance.

Baekhyun’s fingers are too elegant for his own good, they curve and flex with ease, dawdle above his dainty lips, hook at his mouth, slip out with a slick pop. Jongdae squirms as he sits back even more against the headboard of his bed. His breaths become a tad ragged, a trifle uneven.

He also eyes Baekhyun’s mole on his thumb, appreciates Baekhyun’s beautiful hands, praises them internally with all the synonyms he can think of “beautiful”: elegant, graceful, lovely, pretty, appealing, supple, attractive, dainty, cute, delicate, refined, exquisite, tantalizing, sweet, fascinating, gentle, sublime, godly, heavenly, cherubic, and fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

Baekhyun licks his lips tentatively as he removes his wet fingers. He knows Jongdae is beyond cloud nine. He probably also knows Jongdae is exhausting all adjectives that exist that could possibly describe his hands. 

He lifts his shirt a bit, careful not to reveal too much because he knows Jongdae also likes games ( _unfair_ games, especially), and he finds his hole, circles it just for the motion. 

The motion has perhaps murdered all sense of innocence from Jongdae’s mind. Not that there had been much left, but that is never the point.

“ _Fuck_ , Baek, I can’t see.”

“ _That_ is the point,” the elder boy murmurs with husky undertones.

Baekhyun pushes one finger in, and the only hint Jongdae gets is his facial expression of pleasurable pain: mouth slightly ajar, eyes slightly squeezed, blush slightly making its way to the cheeks. A gratified moan escapes from the elder.

The younger unzips his pants because it’s about bloody time. He kicks off his jeans that are half a size too small, reveals boring gray underwear with the outline of his dick and a wet spot at its end. He palms himself once before edging closer to the other, eyes ablaze with want. 

Baekhyun inserts another finger and groans quite audibly, throwing back his head, legs opening apart a bit more. 

Jongdae guesses that the other is scissoring himself, imagines that Baekhyun is rubbing his prostrate with eagerness, curling his fingers up in search for that spot as if it’s the bloody mythical El Dorado.

The veil that is the stupid boyfriend shirt just won’t let Jongdae see anything clearly, but at the same time it’s rather provocative, too sensual, novel, different, a bit frustrating like the pixelated censors in porn videos, but frustrating in a good way because it’s like fucking beautiful at the same time.

Baekhyun’s legs are spread apart, plump thighs showing from under, large shirt draping over his crotch, a hand working at its valley, hiding its treasures.

This is all becoming a bit too metaphorical.

“J-jongdae,” Baekhyun pleads exasperatedly as he starts shoving his three fingers at a rhythmic pace.

Jongdae fingers his underwear’s waistband hesitantly. He wants more of this show, but he knows they’re both just about to come pretty much undone, and he definitely wants to push Baekhyun into his bed, have him begging and begging while the shirt falls loose from his torso and sways with the fucking.

“Shit, Dae, please.”

Baekhyun’s eyes water a bit, and Jongdae gulps, leans in to kiss them away. He lifts a hand and lightly touches the other’s chest that has heaved up and practically can’t heave back down. He ghosts his fingers lightly over the peaks, and Baekhyun whimpers like an upset puppy that he always is.

“D-Dae, fuck, enough w-with this, let’s get to the real d-deal, _augh_.”

Jongdae takes off his undie slowly, his blood cock lifting from its fabric cage just as slowly, and it gives Baekhyun such near-orgasmic oomph. 

“I still don’t have lube though.”

Baekhyun wants to laugh but hiccups cutely instead. “…Fine. G-give it I’ll— _just hurry_ , Dae, for fuck’s sake.”

Jongdae positions himself quickly because _hurry_ is definitely an important keyword here. Baekhyun lowers a bit so he can align himself to Jongdae’s dick and gives it one plunge of a suck, messy and slurry licks, and more rough sucks and occasional kisses because perhaps he realized he was being too rushed.

Jongdae groans, fingers long lost in Baekhyun’s silky hair.

 

After the wet and sloppy job, Jongdae kneels back down and finds his hand above Baekhyun’s, pushes the fingers deeper once before easing them out, getting a glimpse of the hole. He positions himself, and the shirt falls onto the head of his dick, only leaving an outline, a shadow, a penumbra of the member behind the pale cotton fabric.

“I like this idea of not seeing anything,” Jongdae huffs.

“I can sure tell,” Baekhyun manages to snicker without stutter even though Jongdae’s head is halfway in, “you’re fucking bigger than y…your u-usual— _aaahhh_.”

Jongdae shoves the whole thing in, and his cock slides in with ease despite its size and minimal wetness. Baekhyun clenches his butt cheeks and grits his teeth a bit before letting out a huff and a gasp. 

It’s burning, burning, burning, but he likes it.

Jongdae waits a few seconds, and just when he’s on the verge of just letting go because he can’t take it anymore, can’t take not moving when Baekhyun is squeezing him tight with every breath, can’t take not slamming into him hard because of all the foreplay, all the _unfair games_ he’s been given, Baekhyun rocks back and thrusts his hips to kickstart the fucking rock and roll session of this whole new stage.

“Upping your game, huh,” Jongdae manages as he thrusts back in sync and earns Baekhyun’s raspy breaths.

They slam deep and hard, and it’s different because that’s never how they start. They’re gasping for air, oxygen, life, love, every other abstract thing. 

Baekhyun whines, turning his head to a side, and that prompts Jongdae to flip him over, kissing a leg on the way, getting his beloved puppy on all fours, patting the side of the other’s thighs before making a grab at the soft plum butt.

The bed croaks loudly, their skin slap at each other grossly, the bedroom smells, the neighbors are starting to complain, and all the usual stuff, but _damn_ the shirt that’s swinging back and forth, revealing Baekhyun’s hips playfully, draping over the rest, sticking slightly at the small of Baekhyun’s back.

Jongdae quickens the pace and can barely watch Baekhyun bouncing off with equal eagerness. The elder boy slowly leans further into the bed and lifts his bottom even more, angling himself in a specific way, hands grabbing roughly at the sheets.

“Ah…ah, augh…D-dae, s-so good, ahh…”

Jongdae repositions a bit and tries hitting Baekhyun’s spot because he can seriously take a bit more of the begging.

He hits it once, twice, thrice, and Baekhyun hisses in delight. “ _Fuck_.”

“Sure,” Jongdae replies absentmindedly, trying to hit the same spot more consistently, and he knows it works when Baekhyun just can’t formulate any other word but “augh” and “fuck”.

Baekhyun tightens around Jongdae, and the latter knows they’re both almost there. Not to mention, the squeezing around his length accelerates everything even more.

Jongdae leans forward to place several kisses at the skin below Baekhyun’s neck that has exposed itself after the shirt has slipped off of one shoulder.

“I want to see you though,” Jongdae whispers into the other’s ear.

“C-cheesy,” Baekhyun succeeds to say, though out of breath.

They switch around a bit, and Jongdae is on top, Baekhyun’s arms around his neck, his legs behind the other’s thighs.

“I love you Dae,” Baekhyun whimpers lightly, which takes Jongdae by surprise. 

 

 

Jongdae rolls his hips faster and faster and before he can even tug at the other’s completely neglected member, Baekhyun comes under the shirt, staining it in streaks, making the cloth stick to his stomach. Jongdae spills soon after and rides it out a bit before pulling out and staining a bit of the shirt too.

 

He falls to Baekhyun’s chest, and they both take some time to even out their breaths.

 

“The feeling of thin cotton sticking to your skin through cum is just weird as hell,” Baekhyun comments lazily, slurring through the sentence, and it takes the full 1000% concentration of the mere brain cells Jongdae still has to make out what the other just said.

“I’m never wearing this shirt ever again, to be real honest with you,” Jongdae replies, whining.

“That’s not fair, I wanted you in it for next time,” Baekhyun singsongs a bit angrily.

“And when were games ever fair?” Jongdae reasserts the topic with a cheeky grin.

 

Baekhyun puckers his lips but then smiles. “Touché.”

Jongdae moves up a bit until their noses are only half an inch apart. Baekhyun closes the distance, and they wiggle noses and smile stupidly.


End file.
